


By the Clear Blue Waters

by pearl_o



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, Harems, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after all these months in the harem, there are still things Erik doesn't understand about the place, but Charles is always willing to explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They're sitting at the fountain in one of the inner courtyards. Charles is stretched out on his belly on the stone. Erik sits on the ground beside him, knees against his chest. His head rests back against the edge of the fountain, tilted so he can watch Charles as he eats berries, one by one, picking each off the plate before him with the utmost care before raising it to his mouth.

It's a lovely day, sunny and bright with a pleasant breeze. The air smells sweet from the exotic flowers that bloom all around them. Erik still can't name any of them, though Charles has tried to teach him several times. It feels like to learn that knowledge would be to reject what came before. He will never again need to know the name of every plant within a mile of his parents' farm, which ones are good medicine, which ones will sting and burn you, which ones make for decent enough eating when the winters are bad. Still, he clings to those memories nonetheless.

"Raven is going to go to the Emperor tonight," Charles shares, in a confidential tone. Charles is a horrible gossip, but then, the same is true of most of the occupants of the harem. Perhaps it is a necessary consequence of how little of import they have to do. "She's very nervous, the silly goose."

"I don't blame her," Erik says. Unlike Raven and Erik, Charles was born into the harem. He doesn't understand what it's like be from the other side of these walls. For Charles, this is just how life is. It is normal, not some bizarre distortion of the way things should be.

"Then you are silly, too," Charles says mildly. He takes another berry. The juices have begun to stain his lips, Erik notices; they are even more brightly red than they are in nature. "She is lucky."

Erik frowns. "You have spent the night with the Emperor before, haven't you?"

"Yes, twice."

"What is he like, then?"

Charles sets down the fruit he has picked up, and pushes himself up on his elbows, giving Erik a thoughtful look. "He is - well, he is a lot like you would imagine a grandfather from a storybook to be. Old, and rather fat, with a great white beard. He's very formal, very high, you know, just as you'd expect but ... kind, I suppose. Polite."

Erik tries to imagine it, tries to fit that picture in with the stories he grew up on, the cruel warmonger who invaded his country, killed so many of his people, took Erik himself prisoner. He is not very successful at it. 

"He didn't hurt you?" Erik says.

"Well, it hurt at first, of course," Charles says, dismissing the question like a fly around his face. "But he was patient, you know, stopping when I cried, waiting for me to be ready. And after that it was fine. Not lovely like it is with _you_ , of course, but fine. And then of course, he's very generous. The next day when I went back to my quarters, there were new books and clothes and jewelry. It was all so lovely. That's where I got the ring I gave you."

Erik looks down consideringly at the blue stone on his finger. Charles gave it to him after their first night together, weeks after Erik was brought to the harem, once he had finally given in to the feelings Charles caused to well up inside him. Once he could kiss Charles and not feel like he was betraying the family he left behind. 

Erik likes the ring, very much; the color is a perfect match for Charles's eyes.

Erik says, "And the second time?"

"The second time I didn't actually spend the night," Charles says. He lowers his voice, though there's no one around to overhear them - or at least, Erik corrects himself, there doesn't appear to be; God knows, the harem seems to have no secrets. "He couldn't, well, stay up, even though I sucked him for the longest time. I thought he might be angry at me, but he was very nice about it, just sent me away. He sent the gifts all the same."

Erik snorts, and Charles gives him a disapproving look. "Don't laugh, Erik, someone might hear you!" He shakes his head. "It was a great honor, anyway, and it's an honor for Raven now. Not just the gifts - the older concubines will have to show her more respect now. You know how much it bothers Raven when they're cruel to her."

It's true; Raven takes it personally, all of the stupid, cutting, petty politics of the place. It's why it's harder for her - Charles doesn't have to deal with it, for somehow everyone seems to like him, and Erik simply doesn't care. 

Erik thinks that Raven should command respect for reasons other than the whim of some disgusting, ridiculous old man; but that's a thought he knows better than to share aloud, no matter how private they might ever appear to be. 

Charles has said all he means to on the subject, it appears, and his attention is once again on the plate of fruit. He picks up another piece, but this time instead of raising it to his mouth, he offers it up to Erik instead.

Erik leans forward, taking the berry into his mouth; it bursts, the juices spreading sweet across his tongue. He swallows and then raises himself up and forward, until he can press his mouth against Charles's. Charles opens up for him with a sigh, easy and lovely. 

Everything within these walls is designed to be luxurious, decadent, seductive; everything is built to be beautiful. Erik doesn't care about any of it. He would be just as happy with a stone cell, a plain cot, only bread and water. And yet here is Charles, the epitome of all those qualities, and Erik is fallen, weak before him. He will never understand it, not in a thousand years.

He ends the kiss, resting his forehead against Charles's. "Will you tell me a story?" Erik says quietly.

"Of course, my love," Charles says cheerfully. He sits up, then, slinging his legs over the edge of the fountain, and he gathers Erik in close to sit between them and rest his head against Charles's thigh.

Charles begins to speak, some fantastic tale of wonders and magic, utterly unlike the cold fables of Erik's youth. Erik doesn't care for the words, though; instead he closes his eyes and simply listens to the sound of Charles's voice as Charles absently strokes the hair from his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is storming today, all rain and gray and the occasional clap of thunder, and so they are confined to the indoors. The weather is very nearly a match for Erik's mood, foul as it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt for aesc for this universe and the words fountain, oil, language.

It is storming today, all rain and gray and the occasional clap of thunder, and so they are confined to the indoors. The weather is very nearly a match for Erik's mood, foul as it is. He feels out of place here in Charles's quarters, among the bright colors of orange and pink and blues even more vivid than the fountain waters and Charles's eyes.

Charles is sprawled upon his belly, one of his books before him. Earlier Erik lay beside him, petting his hair as he read, but he's grown tired of that, and moved to sit up, his back against the wall. He has a loose piece of fabric in his hands, picked up from somewhere or another, and his fingers keep playing with it, undoing the ragged edges, fidgeting with his unfocused energy and need to make a mark on something. Anything.

"I can read aloud to you if you like," Charles says, without looking up from his book.

Erik scowls. "I don't want you to read aloud to me," he snaps.

Charles does look up, then, his wide and serious eyes focusing fully on Erik. It brings a fierce surge of satisfaction to Erik's belly, as silly as that might be. It _is_ silly, for him to be jealous of a series of dry and lifeless objects, but Erik finds himself resentful of anything that takes Charles's attention away from him. And Charles _loves_ his books, cares for them like the children he'll never have. He hoards them away the way some of the other girls and boys hoard their jewels or silks or scents, like they're infinitely precious.

Erik doesn't care about jewels or silks or scents, but he doesn't care for books, either. There's nothing in the harem he cares about, really. Only Charles. 

"I could teach you to read, if you wanted," Charles says. He reaches out, his hand light on Erik's knee.

Erik tells him, "I know how to read," and feels oddly satisfied by the look of surprise that comes across Charles's face. Charles, who knows everything, who is constantly explaining the world to Erik: it feels good to catch him off his guard.

"You do? Why didn't you ever tell me? I've never seen you read."

Erik sniffs. "It's not as though you have any books written in my parents' language, is it?" Before Erik came here, he had only ever seen a single book in his life - it lived in the temple, the word of his mother's god. Erik left his mother's god behind when he left his family behind; it has no place here, among these people, among these things.

"I'm never going to be a scribe or a merchant or a scholar," Erik says stubbornly. "What do I need to show myself things I can't have?"

Charles sighs, then, and turns back to his book, but only to close it very carefully and set it aside next to his bed. He rolls onto his back, staring up at Erik with a fond expression. "You are impossible," he says.

Erik wants to snarl, to snap like a wild dog - no, like a caged dog, one cornered and vicious. He tears at the piece of fabric again, but even the sound of the rip is unsatisfying.

"Get the oil from the cabinet beside you," Charles says calmly, and Erik stops, blinks down at him. Charles smiles. "My love, I know what you need. Come and spend your frustrations into my body, and it will make you feel better." He pauses a moment, and then continues, saying what Erik needs to hear: "I want you to."

Erik lets out a hiss, and he barely remembers to snatch the oil before he is lying on the bed, his body on top of Charles, pressing him down with all his weight. He kisses Charles's neck and says, softly, almost desperately: "You are the only good thing I know."

Charles sighs beneath him, pushing up against Erik's mouth, and whispers, "Yes, I love you, too."


End file.
